Just call me forgetful…

Do you remember this?

I do. As a kid, it frustrated the heck out of me. I mean come on. Why can’t that purple man remember anything? As an adult, I live it!

One of the most frustrating things about my depression and the antidepressants I use to treat it, is the effect they’ve had on my memory. In that I don’t have one!

To be fair I’m not quite in Forgetful Jones territory yet, but I fear it’s just around the corner. I asked my doctor yet if it was early Alzheimer’s and she said no, it’s the depression. It’s one of the first symptoms to com and the last symptoms to go. Apparently the Cymbalta doesn’t help matters.

Isn’t that terrific? Not only am I depressed — I don’t even remember why!

The worst part about being extremely forgetful is that I’m always letting people down. I forget playdates, appointments, conversations with my husband; but the worst is missing stuff that my kids were really looking forward too, like a friend’s birthday party or a special date I’d planned with one of them. I hope they never think that I just don’t care enough to remember, because that’s definitely not true. I’d love to be “normal”.

Sometimes I daydream about being so on-the-ball that people see me as super reliable and together, a force to be reckoned with. That would be a nice change. Instead, I fear they think of me as ditzy. Gross. What smart girl wants to be seen as ditzy? Not this one. At least I used to be smart, I think.

I can’t really remember.

If I do remember something, it’s usually because I’ve set an iPhone reminder. I always, always set an alert when I enter an event and if I somehow bypass that screen, you can be sure it’ll never cross my scattered little mind again.

Are you forgetful? Chemically, or otherwise? How do you cope? Any tips for this forgetful mama?

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